


so good when I get home

by tsunderestorm



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Bucky has been taking advantage of text messaging. Steve doesn't mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [HamletMachine's](http://hamletmachine.tumblr.com) amazing [comic](http://hamletmachine.tumblr.com/post/122127414480/steve-sending-bucky-texts) which I love very dearly.

Bucky loves his phone, Steve knows. It had been one of his first introductions to normalcy, first with only Steve and Sam as contacts and growing to Nat, Clint, and the pizza place on the corner that delivers until 4 a.m. He loves YouTube, Wikipedia, and emojis, but what he loves the most is sending messages - small, sweet endearments to Steve, jokes and teases to Sam, obnoxious chain forwards to Clint.

Steve’s in a meeting when he gets the first dirty message (he hears Nat’s voice in his head from a few days ago - _are you_ sexting _, Rogers_? - and blushes) and consequently, misses out entirely on Tony’s idea in favor of reading the short line of text for what he feels like is about one hundred times over.

Buck ♥ : _I'm gonna give it to you so good when I get home_

He types _Bucky Barnes!!!_ but his fingers hover over the Send button. He backspaces, emptying the message window and sighing before he types. Yes, Nat voice in his head, he’s _sexting_. What’s the harm in it? The new message he types is playful, flirty, but not overly so - give Bucky an inch and he takes five miles. _Oh yeah? You should be focusing on your mission, not thinking about me._

Buck ♥ : _yeah I know but it's just a waiting game now and all I wanna do is raw you so good you scream_

Steve thinks he makes a sound somewhere close a squeak. Scratch that, he's positive that he does. That was a short-lived game, he decides. He has a perfect poker face and willpower of ten men, but it takes him five seconds to decide he’s nothing up against Bucky’s notoriously persuasive (dirty) words. He slides the phone into his pocket and leaves it there until the soft vibration hums against his leg, the two short bursts like morse code signalling a new message.

Buck ♥ : _I know you're thinking about it now too_

_You don't know anything!_

Buck ♥ : _I know your pretty blue uniform pants are getting pretty tight right about now_

_I can think of something else that's tight, Bucky._

Buck ♥ : _mission’s over. I'm getting on the plane now get ready for me_

\--

Steve steps into their apartment and closes the door quietly, like he's doing something secretive. He toes off his boots and strips his jacket and tee off, unbuckling the uniform’s belt and working his pants open. His cock is flushed and aching when he finally tugs his underwear down and he swears he damn near stumbles and falls onto the bed in an attempt to get a fist around it. It feels good, the first tight-fisted squeeze that draws a broken groan out of him, the first swipe of his calloused fingertips across the leaking tip. Groping half-blind with impatient lust in the bedside table drawer he grabs the lube, up-ends it in a messy dribble onto his fingers and reaches back to rub them against his hole. No use wasting any time, not when Bucky’s coming and Bucky’s in a _mood_. His body swallows them up easily, past the first knuckle and second, until they're as deep as he can get them, two then three then four fucking himself, spreading himself wide.

He thinks about Bucky's message, thinks about _raw you_ and _so good you scream_ and shudders, knows his cock is dribbling onto their sheets as he works himself open. He slumps down on his elbow so he can grab for the phone he threw next to the pillow, typing out a message to Bucky (thank god for autocorrect) that says _Getting ready for you right now. Need you, Buck._

The little dots move, then stop, then move again. _don't you dare come until I'm there inside you._

Just reading that message is enough to get him to damn near disobey it. He slows down to compensate, withdraws his fingers and circles one around his rim the way Bucky likes to do when he’s teasing and moans, sliding the phone back out of reach and humping down against the mattress.

It feels like no time at all before Bucky’s there. “Steve, you're a fuckin dream, I ever tell you that?” he asks when he steps in the door of their bedroom. Steve can smell him from across the room, sweat and leather and the crisp, cold smell of winter clinging in his hair. Under all of that, arousal. Hot and needy, impatient. Demanding. “Just _look_ at you, sugar.”

Steve looks over his shoulder. Bucky's taken off his coat and shirt, standing there in only his heavy combat pants and boots just looking him over. Steve’s skin prickles from the way those cold blue eyes turn hot and greedy as they take in the sight he knows he’s making and his cock gets harder still just from the way Bucky's standing, hips jutted forward to show off the impressive boner he's undoubtedly had since he got on his jet to come home.

“Bucky,” Steve whines, and that's all it takes for him to step forward in two smooth strides, unbuckling his belt and drawing it out of the loops and letting it fall to join Steve's on the floor. He hears the sound of his pants being unzipped, the husky groan as he tugs his pants and underwear down just enough, palming over his swollen cock before he kneels on the bed behind Steve and smooths a hand reassuringly down his back as he moans.

“I'm here, shh...I'll take care of you,” Bucky promises, left hand coming to rest on the small of Steve’s back so it bends under the pressure, pops his ass up higher in the air as the fingers of his right dip into his slick hole. Bucky rubs the head of his cock against him and the slow friction is enough to get Steve squirming at the way it catches on his hole, the way he makes the drag slower , the way his fingers spread him open to accommodate the briefest push past the rim before it’s gone. “Bucky loves you, baby. What'd I tell you I was gonna do, huh?”

Steve mumbles _raw me until I scream_ into the mattress and Bucky slaps his ass in praise, leaning forward for the lube Steve left out and letting it drip generously onto his cock resting in the cleft of Steve’s ass. He thrusts forward, sliding the tip across his hole, sensitive, letting it slick up his cock until the slide is wet and easy.

“You know, if I had to guess, I’d say I think you like the dirty messages, huh…” Bucky says as he grips Steve's hip so hard bruises start to rise. “You're so fucking worked up it's goddamn obscene.”

Steve whines _“Fuck me_ ” and Bucky listens, shoves his cock in too much all at once the way Steve likes. Bucky’s ready for it - the resistance, the hiss of pleasure-pain, the way Steve’s hips jerk and his body tenses reflexively before he relaxes, before the muscle memory takes over and he's swallowing up what Bucky had left to give.

He makes good on his message’s promise, leaves Steve shaking and sensitive, leaves his voice hoarse and broken and all he can think is that he's goddamn proud of himself.


End file.
